


Recognition

by Kemmasandi



Series: Flags [13]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Episode: s02e01-03: Orion Pax, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemmasandi/pseuds/Kemmasandi
Summary: Orion Pax comes face to face with the Autobots.





	Recognition

They’d tried to get in about three different ways, and he knew so because he’d found a way into the cam feeds from the lower-security areas of the ship. There were marks of incursion on the cargo bay forecourt, half a dozen incapacitated Eradicons on the flight deck, and a kerfuffle involving high-frequency radon blasters of the sort the Autobots favoured, a little way off-camera in the corridors quite close to his little databank station.

Orion Pax frowned up at the screen as the camera feed flickered, then died. Evidently a stray blast had overloaded the power chip.

Megatron had told him to remain in his workroom. He would be safe here. Moreover, he was no fighter; what help could he give? But the urge ate at him, the responsibility to deal with those whom had once been his friends. 

He clenched his fists, firmed his resolve, and opened the door.

The corridor outside was deserted, but the sharp report of gunfire marched closer by the second. Orion heard voices, raised in anger, shrill with fear.

He headed for the battle noise, half expecting to feel Megatron’s hand come down on his shoulder at any moment— _y_ _ou should be in your quarters, old friend, where it’s safe._ Logic protocols told him that Megatron was right, he couldn’t risk his knowledge falling into enemy hands, but still something drove him onward.

He turned the corner, advancing into the bowels of the ship. He could hear Vehicons, screaming and dying.

His fists tightened, dente gritting. He had to do something. 

An explosion pressed the air, knocking him off-balance. He braced himself against the bulkhead and reset his audials. Running footsteps approached rapidly. Heavy mecha, bigger than the drones.

He raised his helm just as the Autobots rounded the intersection.

At their head, an achingly familiar orange and white frame.

Ratchet met his optics. His field flickered, bright and shocked. Orion couldn’t help the answering pulse of recognition, even though he knew he shouldn’t—Ratchet looked almost exactly as he remembered.

Older, though. Exhausted somehow, his shoulders stooped and his expression drawn and shadowed. His optics opened wide, his lips parting. He drew in a shocked vent, as if to speak.

Beside him, the Autobots echoed his movements. Why should they recognise him? 

He drew a vent to speak, but the sharp whine of an approaching engine cut him off. Soundwave flashed into his field of vision and transformed, settling defensively in front of him. "Return to your work!“ said Megatron’s voice. "I will take it from here!”

The moment of shock passed; the Autobots spun up their weapons and the battle began anew.

Orion turned and fled. 


End file.
